


Take My Sanity Away

by SanAnn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2013-05-04
Packaged: 2017-12-10 09:58:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/784775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SanAnn/pseuds/SanAnn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whenever you are, I will follow you. I’ll accept the darkness and I will follow you. Because you are my light that I follow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take My Sanity Away

**Author's Note:**

> This story was born after listening to "Prague" by Damien Rice too many times.

It’s dark when Dean opens his eyes. He lies on his stomach on a bed, unmoving, listening to the silence, alert. Dean doesn’t trust the silence.

It takes a couple of minutes for Dean’s memories to occupy the reserved places in his head, and he relaxes against the crumpled sheets; safe at home.

Dean closes his eyes as his hand blindly searches for Sam’s body, traveling against the sheets. They smell like white.

Dean is needy, suffering from the lack of Sam’s heat. Dean’s skin is fragile and thin on the surface whenever Sam is not there to cover it.

Dean raises his head to whisper into the darkness of the room, “Sam.” Urgent plea and demand in one word.

Sam comes with warmness, with hot kisses against Dean’s neck, with strong hands caressing Dean, with silk whispers, “baby”.

Dean turns on his back, exposing himself for Sam’s love that is a shielding, permanent cocoon for Dean. Love is Sam.

Sam kisses Dean’s closed eyelids and Dean’s body is like clay under Sam, following Sam’s movements, leaning into Sam’s hands. Eyes closed, Dean’s finger pads are trailing over Sam’s shoulders, skin smooth and warm.

Sam’s scent is everywhere, and when Dean licks his lips, he tastes Sam.

“Sammy,” he whispers when there’s not enough air in his lungs. Sam kisses Dean deep and slow, sharing the same oxygen and Dean can breathe again.

Dean feels as his body flows under Sam’s hands. Sam plays Dean’s body, getting the right chords and leading, bringing the perfect sounds. Dean moans, lost in Sam, feeling loved and on fire, and not-enough-not-enough–

“Open up your eyes, baby,” Sam urges, voice gentle.

“Someone was screaming.” Abruptly, Dean recalls his dream, or maybe it wasn’t a dream, hard to tell. Dean searches for the answer in his brother’s face, fingers brushing across Sam’s cheek.

“I’m sorry,” there’s a blue regret in Sam’s voice. “I’ll take care of it, don’t worry.” Sam’s lips apologize with lights kisses over Dean’s knuckles.

Sam will take care of him, of the fire inside him. Dean trusts Sam, and he lets himself forget how to think, how to breathe; Sam will do it for him.

Dean relaxes and flows. He is the boat rocking upon the ocean, and Sam is the ocean, endless, infinite in its reach.

Dean’s pleasure rises till the point where his boat is going to turn upside down if he doesn’t open his eyes. When Dean demands his eyelids to stay open, his senses whisper to him that it’s not the boat, it’s his body. Dean’s whole body tingles. Sam is forcing his whole body to tingle.

Sam is everywhere. Sam is the world around Dean. Taking all the space, taking all the strength, all the voices and sounds. Taking away everything around Dean and replacing it with himself. Strong and safe. Giving Dean everything he wants, realizing it before Dean does.

Sam starts touching him from inside, and the fire gets stronger. Sam’s touches make the feeling flammable. Dean’s skin is too thin to hold it.

“Sam,” Dean demands, body trembling. He tries so hard to keep his shell from cracking.

“I’ve got you. Not letting you fall.” Sam whispers into his ear.

Sam’s hands hold him, giving him strength, and are picking up Dean’s pieces to lock with his, changing Dean into Sam.

As Sam thrusts inside Dean, Dean clings tighter, trying to get lost and be found in Sam, mouth finding Sam’s for more fire.

Sam brings out wave after wave of pleasure from Dean’s body; so much color, so much beauty, so much love. When there’s too much whiteness, Dean screams out loud. Dean’s voice is different like that. His soul flies somewhere above him, and his mouth lets out a scream like he’s dying, like his soul isn’t planning to return. But it does, every time it does, because now Sam is down here with him. Sam is the one to hold Dean’s soul in his hands, keeping it safe. Guarding Dean’s soul better than Dean ever could.

Dean’s senses turn sharp and edgy when he feels that Sam is not with him, not in a place of brightness to which Dean belongs now. And it’s painful and wrong. Dean clenches his thighs and bites Sam’s shoulder. Sam comes with a cry and Dean’s name, and Dean is the one to catch him when Sam falls. Dean holds Sam tight, face shining with pure happiness.

When Sam is like that, guards left down, trembling and sweaty–Dean holding his own existence in the arms–Sam lets Dean take care of him. Like the old times.

Whenever Sam lies to Dean saying that Dean takes care of him all the time, Dean just smiles in answer; Dean is insane but he’s not stupid, Dean knows better than that.

Everything is different now. Everything has changed after Dean spent thirty years in Hell. After they took his vision and some part of his sanity away. But Dean doesn’t feel blind or crazy anymore, his light is back. Sam is back.

And there are some things Dean still can’t protect his brother from.

Dean doesn’t tell Sam about the smell of rotten flesh that fills his nostrils from time to time with Sam’s coming back from outside their doors, Dean’s stomach tying up. Dean doesn’t want to upset Sam, turn his touches into insecure on Dean’s body.

Dean knows the smell perfectly, remembers it. Even though Dean is now in a bright and protected place he calls their home, he knows what’s outside of their haven.

Demons and tortured humans; burning flesh, blood and fire. Hell hounds eating the humans’ flesh and raping the tortured bodies. Demons playing with human bodies, bending and twisting them for their liking, inspecting how much one body can take. Screaming human contests at the top of their lungs. Hell as Dean remembers it.

Only now, it gets a little quieter, more peaceful. Sam makes it a better place for Dean. But only for Dean.

It gets dreadful for everyone outside their safe place.

But maybe they all deserved it. The thought brings a tiny smile on Dean’s face. They had to pay. For turning Dean into a broken toy. For changing his Sammy.

Sam was Sam when he came down for Dean, Dean can still remember his own hysteria when he smelled Sam’s scent. Dean can still remember–

 

_“Dean, Dean.” Sam sobbing, lips touching Dean’s bloody cheek, hands sliding over Dean’s mutilated body. Sam’s finger pads brushes Dean’s eyelashes and Dean blinks, trying to see his Sammy and failing._

_And then, Sam screams so loud in anger and pain that red color around Dean burns till it turns black. Dean wants to be scared, but Sam is here, and Dean finally feels safe._

   

Dean’s skin still remembers the fire that was burning around him; Dean’s ears still remember the screams that made a former Hell a picnic in compare to what Sam turned Hell into; Dean’s body remembers Sam’s gentle touches on his skin while Hell was burning and crushing down to Sam’s feet. And it was beautiful. It was his Sammy who did it all.

There was so much fire, better than fireworks on the 4th of July. Dean bets it was an amazing view. Sam made the screams stop, he commanded and they listened. Dean remembers his own happy laugh when every creature shut his mouth– Or maybe, they were all dead, Dean is not sure.

Dean was laughing and laughing, and he couldn’t stop, tears rolling down his cheeks. He began to lose control over his shell. Too much happiness for one crazy Dean. But then, Sam’s mouth found his; and the kisses, hard and long, took away his breath and his power over himself. Dean handed it all to Sam for keeping Dean whole.

After, in the silence, Sam’s hands and tongue mapped every inch of Dean’s skin, changing Dean into something beautiful and fragile. Like a flower. Dean blossomed under his Sam, melting, fitting into the vessel Sam created for him, forcing him to forget about the pain of the last thirty years. Dean was _almost_ Dean.

Dean’s part of “almost” was nothing important. Sam was back, and Dean didn’t need to see or be in a right mind to be sure that his Sammy was with him.

Despite the whispers in Dean’s head insisting that Sammy is different, Dean doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter. Dean just wonders if they both went insane. Not just Dean.

Sometimes, when Sam is touching him, Dean can taste the metallic taste on his lips and inside his mouth when Sam’s mouth is locked with his, tongue thrusting deep into Dean’s mouth.

Sometimes, Dean can feel red on his skin; can feel red between their bodies, making them colorful and beautiful. And how can his Sam not be beautiful?!

Maybe, they both went insane. But it just means that Dean is even more Sam.


End file.
